Prise de Fleur
by Dinas Emrys
Summary: Team Captain Weiss gives new member Ruby a fencing lesson, and finds it particularly hard to keep her eyes, not to mention her hands, off the younger girl. 100% WhiteRose Fluffiness at college. Chapters: 2/3. Dedicated to Hanasaku-Shijin (momoxtoshiro) as part of my and CodyKnight22's own little personal WhiteRose Writing Month on tumblr.
1. Prise de Fleur

Author's Note: This is part of a group project done by me, CodyKnight22, and a few other writers, inspired after a certain prominent WhiteRose author and real-life Weiss (Hanasaku-shijin / momoxtoshiro) mentioned that WhiteRose seemed to be a sinking ship. We figured it was a good excuse to write some WhiteRose.

Disclaimer: RWBY is the property of Roosterteeth and the creation of Monty Oum.

**Prise de Fleur**

Weiss sized up her opponent, shifting her weight between the balls of her feet as she ran through her options. She'd fenced Coach Nikos before, and while the woman was a former Olympian, age had slowed her ... somewhat. _Not nearly enough._ To be honest, the red-haired woman didn't really need speed. She had timing, experience, and Weiss had seen her time and time again go up against the odd uppity student who thought they could challenge the older fencer. It always ended the same way: 5-0, with one ego bruised and an untouched redhead.

She should never have let herself get suckered into this.

Some freshman simply _had_ to bring it up. Had to ask if the team's resident ace could handle their infamous coach. Pyrrha being Pyrrha, she'd been more than up for a 'friendly bout' ... with everyone watching. At least her coach had agreed to go with épée. It was no secret that their coach preferred saber, but épée was Weiss' specialty. It evened the odds ... a little. Coach Nikos was taller, more experienced, more skilled, and honestly, a lot more devious.

Weiss didn't like her chances.

Granted, she could probably land a few hits on the older woman. It wouldn't be completely one-sided, and she _would_ make Nikos work for it. Still ... she wanted to win. Wanted to show her coach that she could manage a victory, even in a thoroughly unbalanced fight.

"Let's make this fast. First to touch?" It was the best solution. It ended this little show as quickly as possible, and a single touch meant almost nothing. It could be put down to luck, or the timing, or any number of factors other than the fact that Pyrrha was simply better, and about to kick her ass. Plus it saved at least some of the loser's pride.

Maybe they'd tie. She could always hope.

Pyrrha nodded, fixing the zipper of her jacket before smiling at the assembled students. "That's fine with me."

Resigned, Weiss slid the mask down over her head. The two women saluted, then sank into the ready position, their guards up, both blades aimed at the other's chest.

"En garde."

Her body wanted to tense up, to coil, to spring forward the second the starting gate opened. She fought the urge, doing her best to relax, stay loose. Tensing up would just slow her down.

"Ready." The referee's hands came up.

She could do this. She _could_ do this.

"Fence."

They darted forward, keeping just on the outside of each other's range. It was a fruitless dance, the two of them teasing each other's defense, their shoes squeaking on the metal plates set atop the hardwood floor. Everything faded but for the much taller woman in front of her, the two of them inching back and forth, making the occasional flick with their weapons, testing for reactions.

Pyrrha extended a little – another test, another tease – only this time, Weiss saw it coming. She moved, body singing as her feet pounded the step it took to get her within range. Her fingers twitched, the small movement flicking her blade around Pyrrha's, trapping the opposing weapon between her blade and guard, twisting to force the spring-loaded tip away from her body. She didn't flourish, didn't try to throw the blade away – those were the hallmarks of the black-and-white movies Blake watched when she felt like teasing Weiss. She didn't need flair, she just needed the tip out of her way.

She felt the point of her épée hit the edge of Pyrrha's chest protector, the molded plastic deflecting the blade away from her center of mass. A surge of pride swelled in her, only ruined a little when she felt Pyrrha's tip flick her side.

Weiss heard the buzzer, and allowed herself to breathe. She'd done it. Both red and green lights lit up the score counters. They'd tied.

"Good move, Schnee!" Pyrrha already had her mask off, clapping her on the shoulder as the other members clapped appreciatively.

"It was one hit."

"Sometimes, that's all you need. Better a tie than no point at all."

The other members had started to move, dragging themselves off the ground to pull weapons from oversized bags, running wires down arms and clipping themselves to the fencing strips. The spectacle was over; it was back to training as usual. Weiss nodded, happy to see them not wasting any more time. Everyone needed the practice, especially so soon after summer vacation. She was a second away from finding one of her teammates, asking for a round or two, before Pyrrha tapped her shoulder.

"Yes, coach?"

"I think someone's looking for you."

Just inside the gym door stood a short girl in a red-and-black hoodie over a tank top and yoga pants. She was gazing around the room with rapt attention, her face shining as she watched the other members pair up as practice started once again. Soon the room filled with the buzz of score machines, squeaking shoes, and the sharp notes of clashing blades. If anything, the girl grew more excited, her eyes widening as a pair of saberists began their bout, clashing into each other in the way that only they could.

"Why do you think she's here for me?"

"Because she wouldn't take her eyes off you until you looked over there." Another pat on her back and Pyrrha was whispering in her ear. "Good luck."

Resigned to her duty as the club captain, Weiss unclipped the wires from her weapon, tucking her mask under her arm as she went over to the newcomer. The girl stayed by the door, shifting awkwardly as Weiss got closer.

"Um, are you Weiss?" The girl asked before the fencer could even open her mouth, the wide-eyed wonder now replaced by nervous fidgets.

"... I am. Can I ask wh-"

"Oh, good. Blake just told me you had white hair, so I had _no _idea where to start and I was soo gonna get lost. I mean, you guys were all fighting and you had your masks on and I-" Weiss could feel herself being driven back by the onslaught pouring out of the brunette's mouth. The girl must have seen it in her eyes, and stopped herself. Coughing to clear her throat, she took a breath and started over. "Sorry. I'm Ruby. Blake told me to say that she'd 'vouched for me.' Guess you're supposed to know what that means, 'cause she didn't explain."

Weiss scowled. _Thanks Blake. _She _would_ send this girl now, when Weiss was sweaty, with mussed hair, still hopped up on adrenaline from her bout, and in absolutely no shape to deal with the bubbly girl staring at her with wide, excited eyes. Wide, excited, _gray _eyes.

She almost growled. She wanted to growl. It was the curse of having your best friend as your roommate – it didn't take long for them to figure out your type, even if you only grudgingly admitted you had one. Short was a plus. When you were as short as Weiss, it was a nice ego boost to have someone who looked up at you.

Weiss shook herself, trying to get those pesky thoughts out of her head.

"Are you looking to join the club?" Perfect. It was diplomatic. Professional. Totally and completely in control and not at all tempted to check out the new girl.

"Is it okay? I know it's a little late."

"We let anyone join during the first two weeks of a semester. Try-outs for the team are a ... whole different issue, which you're probably not interested in." Weiss turned back towards her coach, nodding her head at the newcomer and giving Pyrrha a look that said in no uncertain terms that this was supposed to be _her _job. Shaking her head, the redhead smiled before giving her a small thumbs-up. _Great. Thanks so much, Coach._

"If you'd like," Weiss grumbled, fighting to keep her teeth from grinding, "I can give you the tour, maybe show you the basics. Apparently, I don't have anything _else_ to do tonight."

"Actually, that sounds awesome!"

Weiss waved her over to the rack of practice weapons. Most of the members had their own, but they kept a small set aside for new students.

"Do you have any background in martial arts? Any sports at all?"

Ruby grinned and rocked on the balls of her feet. "I know kung fu."

The fencer twitched, the part of her brain that reacted to bad jokes already starting to throb. Especially overused bad jokes. And puns. God-awful puns. "Did you take a few classes, or-"

"First-degree blackbelt."

Of course. "Why come here? If you don't mind my asking. There has to be a dojo nearby."

"There's only two groups who practice within an hour's drive from of campus, and they're both bājíquán. Makes it a little hard to practice Wing Chun." Ruby grinned, pulling a glove from the basket Weiss handed her. "Plus, it's college. I'm supposed to try something new. Hitting people with a stick sounded fun."

"It's not just about hitting someone with a metal stick."

"Really? Those two seem pretty good at it."

Weiss spared a glance over her shoulder at the pair fencing behind them. They were doing saber, pounding down the strip with abandon as their weapon flicked towards each other. _Wonderful_.

"It's much more complicated than most people think."

"It looks awesome."

"... would you like to try?"

"Sure!"

Weiss shrugged, grabbing a weapon off the rack, and holding it out.

"Fencing 101. This is a foil. It's the first weapon most people work with."

"Cool." Ruby swished it through the air like a pirate's hanger, ending in a particularly impressive pose, ruined a little by the girl's striped knee-socks. "Let me guess. The little springy end goes into the other woman."

Weiss rolled her eyes. She got more than enough of that from her roommate. "Come on. Heel-to-heel. Make a ninety-degree angle. Good. Now take two steps with the right foot. Now bend your knees."

Ruby followed her directions without complaint, slowly settling into the stance. A few minutes later, and the girl was making deliberate steps, advancing and retreating, pausing only when Weiss stopped to correct something. Then, Weiss brought up her arms, moving her into the basic closed six position, her weapon up and in front.

Oh god. She was finding _excuses_ to touch the girl. Weiss moved back, fighting the urge to twine herself around Ruby's arms and guide her through the motions, holding her from behind while Unchained Melody played in the backgroun ... _Dang it, __Blake!_ She'd known movie night was a bad idea. Her favorite nerd's overactive imagination was starting to rub off on her.

A half-hour later, and Ruby was watching as Weiss showed her the basic lunge, her foot whipping out as she pounced, tip spearing the practice target through the chest. Each thrust ended with her tip square in the center of the little padded target that hung on the wall, years of practice having burned the movement into her bones.

She spared a glance back at Ruby, making sure the girl was paying attention to the movement, ready to try it herself after Weiss finished the demonstration.

_Good. She's watching the footwork, not my hands. Too many people ... _Weiss stopped. Followed the line of the brunette's eyes.

She wasn't looking at her feet.

"Ahem."

"Yes?" Ruby's head snapped up, eyes wide and guilty.

" ... would you like me to show you that again?"

The small girl's face went completely red, gray eyes snapping down to the floor before glancing nervously back up at Weiss. The fencer wanted to groan. Ruby was so obviously embarrassed about staring, and yet somehow Weiss was the one who felt guilty. She hadn't even snapped at her, hadn't done anything, and yet that vulnerable look left her feeling terrible.

"Yeah. If you don't mind."

Weiss forced a smile, then turned back to the target, the foil flicking back up into the guard position. Another lunge, another thrust, and the tip thudded into the padded square.

"Could you ... maybe ... I'm still not sure I ... One more time?"

"Sure. One more time."

* * *

><p>Weiss had to hand it to her, Ruby was a fast learner. Having some martial arts experience helped. It would hinder her later, the old footwork movements interfering with the new ones, but the muscle was there, along with the sense of timing that only came with years of practice. Her lunges were hesitant and slow, the girl focusing on moving correctly, rather than quickly. By the end of practice, Ruby had definitely made progress, hitting the general area of the target more often than she missed.<p>

Weiss took the foil back from Ruby, sliding it onto the rack before unzipping her jacket, feeling the colder air rush against her sweat-soaked skin.

"Why try fencing, anyway? Wouldn't something like karate or tae kwon do be more familiar?"

Ruby paused for a second, trying to pull off her glove as she looked over at Weiss.

"Not really. It's like learning Spanish when you already know French. You can do it, but it takes a while before you stop mixing up the verbs." She finally managed to her the glove off, tossing it back onto the pile. "This is ... Russian. Different sounds, different letters. Plus, I don't want familiar. My sister ... she made me promise I wouldn't fall back into the same habits from high school. Then Blake mentioned you, so ..." Ruby trailed off, fiddling with the foil before getting ready for another lunge.

"What did Blake tell you about me?"

"That you're the best the club has." Ruby grunted as she moved, the tip landing about an inch from the center. "That you can be kinda mean, but you demand more from yourself than you do from your teammates. And that you're ... well, I think her words were 'drop-dead gorgeous.'"

Weiss sighed. What the hell. She probably wasn't reading the signals wrong, and if she was, better to get it over with now. Taking a breath, she ran a hand through her hair, wishing it wasn't matted and messy. That she wasn't covered in sweat and smelling of practice gear.

"Normally, the club grabs bubble tea after practice. There's this Korean place ... anyway, they'd have you introduce yourself, give you a chance to meet everyone."

"Yeah! That sounds grea-"

"Or." Weiss cut her off. She had to say this now. It would be stupid to let herself develop feelings for someone who wouldn't or couldn't return them. Especially if the girl kept showing up to practice. She didn't need an unrequited crush sitting under her nose, distracting her during training. If Ruby felt the same way, wanted to give her a shot, great. If not, she'd get over it.

"You and I could grab something to eat. Just the two of us. Give us some time to talk."

" ... like a date?"

Weiss gave her a short nod, her bound hair bobbing against the back of her neck. "If you don't want to, it's fine. I just thought-"

"No, that ... that sounds really nice."

"... okay." Great. They'd gone from awkward to happy and awkward. Not that it made the soaring feeling in her chest any less gratifying. "I'd like to grab a shower, so ... twenty minutes?"

Ruby beamed before turning away, leaving Weiss to wait until her heart stopped hammering.

Oh, she was in soo much trouble.

Her phone buzzed when she went to grab her bag, vibrating inside the pockets of her jeans. She fished it out, trying to get as little of her sweat-soaked arm on the clean clothes as possible.

It was a message from Blake. _So? You ask her out yet?_

Weiss glared down at the little white slab of plastic, the lit screen flashing, mocking her.

_Your timing sucks. ... and __I'm buying you lunch for a month._


	2. Fior di Latte

Author's note: Some reviewers and commenters asked to see what Weiss and Ruby's first date would be like, so I thought I'd indulge them. Hope it turned out well.

Anyway, Chapter 3 will go up on Christmas Eve.

**Fior di Latte**

Weiss didn't waste any time ducking out of the shower, towel wrapped haphazardly around her chest as she fumbled for her phone.

_Blake. Blake! _she typed one-handed, flinging damp hair over her shoulder with the other. She glared into the locker mirror, scowling at the wet length that spilled over her shoulder. Still, Ruby had seen her with a matted and messy bun streaked with sweat, so ... anything would be an improvement. Weiss had just started work on a braid when the phone beeped again.

_What?_

Finally. _What food does Ruby like?_

_Cookies._

_You know what I mean. Italian? Thai? _

_Cookies. ;)_

Weiss glared at the screen, wishing a 4G connection could transfer sheer rage and annoyance as well as her roommate's stupid emojis.

_Not helping. _

It took Blake a little while to reply, giving Weiss the chance to finish the French braid and start pulling on her clothes, half-wishing that she'd asked Ruby for enough time to go home and grab something a little more date-worthy. Her jeans were half-on before the sharp ring heralded another text.

_Her diet is 50% cookies and 50% chocolate. She has chocolate milk in cookie cereal for breakfast. Every. Morning. Miracle she doesn't have diabetes. Just go somewhere nice – she'll enjoy being there with you. And you still owe me lunch._

* * *

><p>Ruby was waiting for her by the entrance, her breath a cloud of mist in the November air. She was back in the red-and-black dress, wrapped in a crimson hoodie just big enough to swallow her. The front rippled in waves every time she moved, the sleeves constantly slipping down over her hands. It looked the most comfortable thing Weiss had ever seen.<p>

Straightening her collar, she stalked over to the younger girl, careful to keep her face calm as she looked down at the adorable creature. She was the older one, the responsible, calm team captain who just happened to ask out a brand-new member. Not like it hadn't happened before – there had been more than a few couples come together within the club.

"Are you ready?" she asked, reminding her stomach of all the horrible things she could do to it if it didn't stop its nervous churning.

"Yup!" Ruby chirped, twisting on stockinged legs as she turned to face Weiss. "So, where are we going?"

"How does pizza sound?"

Rose-red lips split in a grin that would have been positively sinful on anyone a little less cute. "Sounds delicious."

Moving along with the trickle of students leaving the gym, the two walked past the parking lot, pausing just long enough to lock her fencing bag in her car. Ruby seemed to enjoy the weather, and Weiss wasn't going to complain about a few extra minutes of walking. Not with the way the cold air made the younger girl's cheeks flush.

"You'll like Rosso's. He uses this buttery dough for the crust that just crumbles when you bite it."

"Sounds like someone's been there before."

"He stays open late. Plus, it's wood-fired in an oven from the forties that gives it just the right amount of char."

"Hipster," Ruby accused lightly, her smile taking any possible bite out of the accusation.

"I am not. I just like the food."

Another half-block, and they were well into the heart of the university village, boutiques and coffee shops sitting low to the ground alongside the parking structure that _still_ wasn't finished. Weiss clocked the second of four Starbucks as they moved through the sparsely crowded path. Street lamps were already hung with unlit strings of lights, floating in purgatory till the twenty-eighth of November, when Christmas decorations could be hung in earnest. Ceramic, plastic, and paper turkeys sat in more than a few windows, preserved and faux pumpkins framing the displays. Customers moved sluggishly, strolling from one storefront to another, the ever-present coffees scenting the air with pumpkin and cinnamon.

Their destination sat in front of what was once the local bookstore, replaced by some furniture depot after the shopping center raised the rent. The stylized sign hung out over the sidewalk, swinging doors releasing warm waves of bliss, scented with garlic, tomato and toasted cheese. Light strumming trickled out the door, the Italian folk music unapologetically out-of-place with the season.

The door jingled as Weiss held it open, letting Ruby slip in ahead of her. Never let it be said that Weiss Schnee was not a courteous date.

One look, and the older girl knew she'd been right: Rosso's was perfect. This late, the place was nearly empty, wonderfully absent the occasional crying child or incessantly chattering students that normally made Weiss get her pizza to-go. The whole room was warm, almost stifling after the frigid conditions outside. Red-and-white checkered tablecloths stayed on just the right side of camp and cheesy, dodging the serious romantic for a cozier, playful feel.

The waiter led them to their booth, menus pulled from a shelf mounted into the table. Ruby scooted in, sweeping her skirt behind her legs as she sat down, drawing Weiss' eyes to the slice of skin sitting between her knee socks and her skirt. She tried her best not to notice how much that appealed to her, but some primal part of her brain wholeheartedly approved.

"Miss-a Weiss. So-a good of you to come," the clearly not-Italian man called as he came up to their table, his accent far too horrible to be genuine.

"Really Rosso? Still faking the accent?"

"Only when you walk in." The rail-thin pizza chef grinned at the two, moustaches twirling as he whipped out his notebook. "I'd offer your usual, but this doesn't look like take-out night. Now, what can I get you girls?"

Weiss was halfway to ordering a beer, when she remembered the girl sitting across from her. The girl who had to be a year or two younger – too young to drink. Granted, it would steady her nerves, something she could _really_ use right about now, but it would mean drinking alone.

"Just water, please."

Ruby grabbed for the menu, flipping through in search of beverages. "Do you have lemonade?"

"Yup. Strawberry lemonade too, if you wa-"

"Yes. That. Definitely that."

The proprietor jotted down their drinks on his pad, flipping the cover shut with a smile.

"Be right back."

And he was, before either girl could get out so much as a word, glasses in hand and asking for their orders. Weiss bit back a smile as Ruby pawed through the menu, desperately panning over the combos list. She shouldn't enjoy this as much as she did, but Ruby made for a cute frantic. It wasn't until the younger girl bit her bottom lip with indecision that she chose to take pity on the poor thing.

"Ruby."

The red-streaked head jerked up from the menu, pupils shrinking as they adjusted.

"What do you like on your pizza?"

"Meat. Peppers. Onions."

Weiss smiled and ordered a medium Deluxe, passing the menu back to Rosso. The aging chef bobbed his head, heading off for the kitchen with another snap of his notebook.

"Do you think that'll be enough?" Ruby asked, trying and completely failing to hide her doubt that it would be enough food.

"Trust me, you want to save room for dessert."

"Oooh. Does he do those giant sundaes with brownies or something?" The younger woman reached back for the menu, already eying the dessert section.

"Or something." Weiss laid her hand on the binder, gentle but firm as she slid it away from her date. "You'll like it. Trust me."

"Mysterious," Ruby laughed, but she didn't argue as Weiss hid the menu. "You're lucky I like surprises."

Her laugh trailed off into silence, both of them waiting for the other to speak, neither particularly wanting to be the one to start. But there were only so many places to look, so many times Weiss could adjust the placement of her napkin, so many packets for Ruby to fiddle with.

"I think this is the part where we try small talk," Ruby chuckled, crinkling the paper wrapper from her straw into a ball.

Weiss nodded, grabbing the glass to give her hands something to do. Ruby was right; even worse, _Ruby_ was the one bringing it up. It should be _her_. Weiss was the older one, the more grounded one, the more experienced – dear God, she hoped she was more experienced. It should be _Weiss_ reassuring Ruby, the one making sure the date went smoothly.

"So, how's Beacon treated you so far?" Good start, now get it together, you dolt!

"I'm liking it."

"You have a major in mind yet?"

"Not really." Ruby toyed with her straw, whirling it in little circles inside the red plastic glass. "What's yours?"

"International studies." Well, that was the easy answer anyway, and few people outside the department really cared which area your focus was. Western Europe with a focus on post-war Germany was usually a little more information than most people wanted or needed.

"Is that ... fun?"

"Depends on the day. My modern history class is a pit of soul-crushing despair, but I like the cultural studies." Weiss kept her voice dry, rewarded by chuckle at her misfortune. Good. Humor. That was definitely a good place to start. "What classes are you taking?"

They settled into an easy rhythm, complaints about professors mixing with jokes about classmates and roomies. Weiss took the chance to introduce Ruby to any parts of campus she hadn't seen, lips twitching when steel-gray eyes went wide at the news that the aeronautics department had a laser in their basement. In the girl's defense, it was a very impressive laser.

Then the pizza came, in all its cheesy glory, and their mouths were too busy for talk. Vegetables cooked into perfect softness mingled with sausage and pepperoni, all coated with tomato and mozzarella, all of it devoured and downed by the two young women.

Ruby was halfway through her third slice when her eyes caught on the scar, and Weiss resigned herself to the inevitable question. They always asked. Although, to be fair, how could they not? She couldn't really blame her – the slash went down from above her eyebrow, ending at the edge of her cheekbone, the scar tissue prominent and pink against her otherwise pale skin. Apart from her white hair, it was her most noticeable feature; Ruby's gaze had lingered on it once or twice already. If anything, her date had been fairly restrained in not asking before now.

"Do you want to ask?" Weiss swallowed her bite while Ruby cringed, looking all the part like a child caught misbehaving. "You keep looking at it."

"Sorry," she apologized, and Weiss believed her. Whatever else this girl might be, she was definitely expressive. Someone that open, that honest – she seemed like the kind of person who couldn't tell a convincing lie if she wanted to.

"It's fine." That lie came easily, second-nature after years of practice. Practice with parents, teachers, the occasional therapist ... too much practice. "Do you want to know?"

"You sure it's okay?"

"It's a little ... heavy for a first date. But, if you want ..." and she meant it. She _actually_ meant it. If Ruby asked, she _would_ tell her – something that surprised her more than anything else.

"Let's just talk about something else."

"Probably a good idea." Weiss forced a smile, although the relief she felt was genuine. It was odd – she normally didn't feel this guilty avoiding talking about the scar. It was human nature to stare, to wonder, and she always refused to let it bother her, refused to feel shame over the wound.

Ruby pushed her empty plate to the side, searching for something to pull them away from the conversation neither wanted to have.

"So, what's this secret dessert I was saving room for?" Now the empty plate had another meaning, and Ruby bobbed her head to the side - half-shrugging her apology.

Weiss snorted through her nose at the girl's appetite. She had to have a hollow leg. Or two.

"I'll go get it."

It was only a few feet to the counter that separated the booths from the ovens, giving the curious onlooker a perfect view of the cooks prepping sauces and tossing balls of dough, turning into circus tents around Rosso's practiced hands. Any other time, Weiss would be happy to simply watch them work, admiring the care and skill that went into something that was still always devoured minutes after its creation.

But this wasn't any other time, and the crow she was about to eat ruined the normally welcome sight. She fished out the twenty-dollar bill with a sigh, allowing herself a particularly malevolent scowl. Clearing her throat to get the chef's attention, she slapped the bill on the counter. "Do it."

Rosso's eyes flicked from her to the carefully folded note, widening with recognition. "My god, is Weiss Schnee asking for _the special_? Because I remember a very precocious girl in pigtails saying she would rather chug a bottle of turpentine that take one bite of something so crass and tacky as my-"

"It's not for me, Rosso, it's for her. If you ruin this, I swear-"

"Whoa there, little lady. Never let it be said I stood in the way of your love life." The moustache twitched above a shit-eating grin, Rosso reveling in his long-awaited victory. "She's cute too. Although, you're robbing the cradle a bit, ain't cha?"

"She's two years younger than me, that's not-"

"That makes her a _freshman_." Jovial eyes twinkled with humor as Rosso sang the word, pitching his voice just low enough for Weiss to hear. "A vulnerable, impressionable freshman being taken advantage of by a world-weary, cynical junio-"

"I know this place almost well as you, Rosso. It would take me exactly eight-and-a-half minutes to burn it to the ground, and leave no evidence."

The aging chef merely grinned wider, slipping his hard-won money out from under Weiss' fingers. "One chef's special coming right up."

Weiss caught herself before she stormed back to the table, deep breaths pushing the frustration to the back of her mind. She was _not _going to let herself ruin this date out of irritation over a childhood bet. It should make the girl across from her happy; that was all the justification she needed.

They settled back into easy conversation, Ruby trying and failing to explain the difference between Wing Chun and Bajiquan. Weiss was just about to surrender to the girl's obvious enthusiasm when Rosso returned, hands filled with a serving dish hastily topped by a slightly too-large lid.

"Ladies," Rosso purred, drawing out the 'l' as he set a covered dish atop the table. "I bring you the Chef's Special."

Weiss watched as steel-gray eyes went wide when Rosso swept the lid off their dessert. Red lips split as her jaw dropped, pupils as wide as the monstrous dessert the pizza chef had delivered.

"No," Ruby gasped, her voice feeble with wonder. "You didn't."

"I heard you liked cookies," Weiss shrugged, refusing to show how pleased she was at Ruby's obvious glee.

Ruby practically drooled over the mammoth cookie pizza, the cream cheese frosting layered with fudge and caramel, sprinkled liberally with chocolate chips.

"One cookie-dough pizza, as ordered," Rosso winked at Weiss, drawing a scowl from her. "Enjoy."

It took the girl in the red hoodie scant seconds to devour her first slice, satisfied moans rolling from her throat as she closed her eyes in chocolate-induced bliss.

"You are the _best_ date. Ever."

"I'm glad you like it." Weiss took a bite, eyebrow twitching skeptically at the taste. It wasn't terrible, but she had never been a fan of anything that tasted like distilled diabetes. But Ruby liked it, and in the end, wasn't that what mattered?

* * *

><p>It was pitch-dark by the time Weiss pulled up in front of Ruby's dorm, stepping out of the driver's side door to walk the younger girl to the door.<p>

"I had a really good night."

"Me too."

"So, would you ..." The words died in her throat, her tongue tripping over itself as she tried to speak. What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn't some hormone-ridden teen, struck dumb by a pretty girl's smile. Weiss Schnee was _not_ going to get flustered over asking a girl on a second date.

She swallowed, the motion freeing her tongue from whatever nerves had trapped it. "Would you like to do this again?"

"Y-yeah. I'd like that." Weiss blinked as Ruby grabbed her hand, confusion melting into relief as a felt-tipped pen dragged across her skin.

"My number." Ruby let her go, careful to cap the pen before letting it disappear back into her pocket. "Tonight was fun, and not just 'cause you found the best dessert ever."

"Good to know you're not just looking for another cookie."

"Nah." Ruby smiled up at her, lopsided grin flashing in the burnt orange light of the street lamps. "The date made me want to give you my number. Dessert made me want to do this."

Standing on tiptoe, Ruby stretched, her lips pressing gently against Weiss' own. The older girl froze for a moment, her body paralyzed with shock. She hadn't expected this, would have been fine wishing her goodnight and calling the next morning. For a moment, Weiss forgot what she was supposed to do, where to put her hands, how to react to a gesture this intimate. Then she noticed the strain in Ruby's legs, arched up onto the balls of her feet to reach Weiss's lips.

The older girl bent down, sanity restored by the other girl's needs, letting Ruby relax back as the kiss lingered. There was a second where Weiss fought being swept away by the girl in her arms, tried not to let the world fade away but for the young woman pressing herself against her. Then she surrendered, letting the feel of Ruby wipe everything else from her mind, leaving the two of them alone, safe and secure in their own little private world.

Ruby's lips were warm and soft against her own, pulling away only to return, pressing and pulsing against her mouth. She was gentle and tender and all those adjectives Weiss couldn't remember, with just the hint of passion still held back. It was cautious, testing, and Weiss was _not_ about to give her any reason to stop. Her hand stayed safely on Ruby's spine, as possessive as she dared be without pulling her any closer.

Ruby didn't have her reservations. A hand slid up Weiss' neck to the base of her hair, cradling her head as the young woman kissed her just a little deeper, just a little harder.

An eternity later, Ruby pulled away, eyes sliding open as she smiled up at the older girl, her face flushed, lips a few shades redder than they had been a moment before.

"Good night, Weiss. Call me."

Then she was gone, dormitory door clicking shut behind her and leaving Weiss stunned and swaying on the stoop. Her heart pounded in her chest, telling her to run, to cheer, at the same time her legs begged to collapse against the wall, her lungs burning for air.

She'd tasted like chocolate chips and cookie dough, and Weiss couldn't bring herself to mind.


End file.
